


IcyHot!Fic

by shadesofhades



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Figging, M/M, Masturbation, Painplay, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/pseuds/shadesofhades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean accidentally discovers a new passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	IcyHot!Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Abandoned in 2010.

It starts out rather anti-climatic.

Just like always, Dean comes back just as dawn is beginning to make itself known, his muscles sore and aching after a long hunt. Standing chest deep in an open grave that you've just dug, isn't exactly easy on one's body.

Dean can't really say if Sam is feeling just as sore as him though, because he just flops down on the bed without even kicking his shoes off, and starts to snore.

But where as Sam can fall asleep the instant he walks in the door, adrenaline keeps Dean awake. So normally, after Sam passes out, Dean stays up for a while to patch up any battles wounds he might have.

This time though, the wounds are invisible, not oozing blood or spreading black and blue across his flesh. Instead they take the form of a deep throbbing under his skin, the muscles of his legs screaming in protest with every step he takes. There's really not much one can do for muscle aches though, other than throwing back a few aspirin and get out the plastic jar of Icy Hot that Dean keeps on hand. 

He doesn't really think about what he's doing, because it's not like this is the first time he's used this stuff, but his pants are around his ankles, and he's spreading the cold jelly across his thighs when his fingers drift up just the slightest, and Dean suddenly realizes how turned on he's getting from the way the cold-burn loosens his muscles. 

He glances over at Sam's sleeping form before he really does anything about it though. Not that his brother hasn't ever see him jerking off before. Hell, he's had Sam's cock in his ass on more than one occasion, but there's a certain degree of wrongness to the whole scene, as Dean sits on his bed with his legs spread with his pants around his ankles as he stares at Sam's sleeping body, that gets Dean's engine revving so hard that he can't do anything but succumb to the urge. So he's hand drifts up -- the other one still rubbing soothing circles into his slick thighs -- and grasps his cock, his eyes still locked on Sam's face, fixing his gaze on Sam's lips.

The problem lies, however, in the fact that Dean can't stop himself, because he's gotten use to the way it feels to have a cock rubbing against his prostate as he jerks his cock, still working on automatic with his eyes still glued to Sam, his other hand -- the one still covered in Icy Hot -- finds its way between Dean's thighs and shoves its way inside of him. 

It takes a minute though, for it to really sink in, what Dean has just done. It isn't until his index finger presses against the place inside of him that normally makes him force his eyes close and his heart to pound, that the sensation blossoms through his body. His muscles are clenching around his fingers and a fire is burning through his insides, radiating from just beyond the ring of muscles, so hot he can barely stand it, and Dean finally realizes as the the smell of sweet mint suddenly assaults his senses and burns his eyes, what he's actually done. But by the time he pulls his fingers out of his ass, it's too late because there's a thick coating of jellied menthol along his insides and it's stinging every time his muscles tighten in excitement. 

He can't do anything to stop it, and really, when he stills himself long enough to think about it, about the sensation of intense heat stinging through him, he realizes he isn't really sure if it wants to. Because even though it stings something awful, and his muscles are contracting, trying to fighting the heat, he _likes_ it. It's pretty obvious that his cock likes it too, because it's spilling precome onto the sheets at an alarming rate, and it's only a few more tugs before he comes all over his hand, panting, his other hand smearing Icy Hot into the sheets as he clenches them in his fist at the weight of his orgasm. The sensation doesn't just stop when he comes though. It still lasts, just long enough from him to recover and his cock to take interest in what's happening to his ass. 

Dean looks over at the jar with weary eyes, then back at his cock, half-hard and looking to grow harder, before he scoops out generous amount and spreads his legs. 

It may start out rather anti-climatic, but it's really all down hill from there.

Two weeks later him and Sam come home from a hunt together, but Sam doesn't pass out right away like normal. Instead he stares at Dean with lust-filled eyes, laying back on his bed with his hand down the front of his jeans. And Dean realizes that even if Sam had any intention of really doing something about said lust, he is far too tired to actually carry any of it out.

So they silently come to a general consensus, Sam unzipping his jeans, bringing his half-hard cock through the fly, as Dean yanks his down to his knees. They've done this before, on nights when they're too far gone to climb into bed together, but still need something to prove that both of them are alive and breathing, so Dean knows how this works. But maybe this time, he might spice it up a little, give Sam a real show.

Sam's slowing stroking his cock, eyes fixed on him, and Dean takes the scene into his own hands -- quite literally -- reaching out for the jar resting on the table between the two beds, still sitting there from when Sam used it last night on his aching back.

Even though Sam arches an eyebrow in Dean's direction as his hand grips the jar, he doesn't say anything, just stills his hand as if waiting to see what Dean will do next.

Dean can see Sam's eyes widening out of the corner of his eyes as he spreads his legs as far as they will go with his jeans still tangled around his knees, and brings the slick fingers down between them. He doesn't press inside himself right away, preferring to draw it out for Sam's viewing pleasure. Instead he lets his digits draw circles around his entrance, teasing and smearing the mentholated jelly across it.

The burn starts up within seconds of his fingers touching his flesh, and he can't help the way he throws his head back and cants his hips forward, fully hard in an instant. Sam is looking at him with curious eyes when he finally breeches his body, rubbing the Icy Hot over the tight muscles, coating them the best he can before he pushes his fingers against the resistance. He can't bite back the moan -- nor does he really want to considering the way Sam's panting on the bed next to him, especially with the way Dean can see Sam jerk his cock out of the corner of his eye -- as his body swallows up two of his fingers as far as they'll go.

It makes him feel a little bit like a teenager with no stamina, but with Sam's eyes on him, his fingers in his ass, _and_ the sting of the Icy Hot burning through his body, he can't help how fast he spills himself all over the nimble fingers still stroking his cock.

When his cock has soften again, his body wrung loose with his orgasm, his fingers slip from his body and his hips return to the bedspread. Then he turns his head just in time to watch Sam tumble over the edge too, coming in streaks across the front of his jeans, his eyes locking on Dean's as he strokes himself through the orgasm.

It's not that Dean doesn't expect Sam to ask about his new obsession. After all, it's not exactly something that most people would probably willingly put themselves through, especially not while masturbating, but Sam's caught Dean pressing down on his own bruises while he getting off more than enough times that obviously Sam knows that Dean tolerance for pain is, well, a little higher than most. So, no, even though Sam should know by now that what Dean does while jacking off isn't exactly _normal_ , he doesn't really expect anything different than Sam being... well, Sam. And of course, his little brother being who he is, naturally, strives to understand most things in live, even if they are often things that lack a proper explanation. 

The thing is, Dean doesn't expect Sam to ask _now_ of all times. Not when they're standing in the middle of a drugstore and there's a shelf full of Icy Hot in front of him and Sam's looking at him like he's afraid Dean might just whip his cock out and jack it right there in the middle of the aisle, like he's some kind of huge fucking pervert, just because of the mere sight of the jar. 

So, maybe Sam understands this a little less than some of the other odd things Dean does to get off. But it would be nice not to have Sam shift from side to side like a five year old with a full bladder, completely unable to meet Dean's eyes just because there's a plastic jar filled with minty jelly on a shelf in front of them. 

"Doesn't it burn?" Sam wrinkles his nose as he says it, still not looking at Dean, his eye instead fixed on the jar that's currently being held in Dean's reaching fingers.

He just rolls his eyes at Sam.

"That's the point, Sam." 

Sam's finally looking at him now, but he's still clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, and well, fuck, why the hell did he bring it up if he didn't want to talk about it like he wants to talk about every goddamn thing? But Sammy just gives him wide eyes, and stares at him expectantly, his stupid, inviting lips pulling into a pout that's always like a sucker punch to Dean's stomach every time he does it.

Dean sighs.

"Oh come on, Sammy, do you really have to question this? It feels good, can't we just leave it at that?"

Sam frowns, then tilts his head to the side to stare at Dean for a long minute before he says slowly, "So you like it?" He looks thoughtful for a moment before he raises an eyebrow and nods quickly before reaching out and takes the jar from Dean's hands. Then turns on his heel to walk towards the cash register. 

Dean stands still for a moment, watching Sam's retreating back before he sighs again and says, "Damn it, Sam. What are you doing?" 

He doesn't answer though, just flashes a grin in Dean's direction, his cheeks dimpling, before he says, "I've got an idea."

And well, honestly, Dean should know better than to trust that stupid grin of Sam's. 

But he never thinks about it until it's too late. 

Like now, for instance. 

When he's spread-eagle on the bed in front of Sam, and that stupid grin makes a come back as Sam pulls out something that's starting to become a little familiar to him as well as something completely new. 

And he's not sure which of the two actually scares him more. The jar that has his cock twitching just at the mere sight, or the buttplug that Dean can only hope is a practical joke because it's bigger than anything that Sam's ever used on him before, but none the less, it has Dean's ass cheeks clenching together in anticipation as Sam sets it between his thighs.


End file.
